


Lucid Dreaming

by Annabelle_W



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, POV First Person, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabelle_W/pseuds/Annabelle_W
Summary: Ruby and Meg find a way to watch the Winchesters from the Empty.  They are surprised by what they find.





	Lucid Dreaming

I'm chasing my sister through a field of long, waving grass, dotted with pink and white flowers. Abruptly, she stops running and collapses gracefully onto a particularly verdant patch. I throw myself down beside her and watch as petals flutter around us. She lifts up on one elbow, uses her other hand to brush a strand of dark hair off her lovely face before asking (in Italian) "Want to race home?"

I stare at her. Her features are flawless, but blurry. Because my saintly sister died centuries ago, while birthing her ninth child. No doubt she has spent the past several hundred years enjoying a bucolic heaven with perfect (false) versions of her husband and children.

I, however, am stuck dreaming endlessly in the Empty.

I've reached the moment of my dream cycle when I know who I am, where I am, and I can feel my body and my surroundings, but I can't ever open my eyes, can't ever truly wake up. Why I even have form here I don't know, but I'm in the body of the vessel in which I died and I'm lying on a cold, hard surface in a cold, vast area. What it looks like I will never know. All I see is the field of wildflowers from my last dream (sans my sister, thankfully).

I stretch out my hand (my real hand, not the hand of the human girl I was in my dream) until I reach the form lying beside me and grasp her hand.

At once, the field disappears and I find myself in a warehouse, sitting across from a thin girl with very short blonde hair and cruel eyes--eyes like mine, like most demons.

"Hello, Meg," I say.

"Ruby." Her form shifts as she acknowledges me. Now, she's short and curvy, with black hair waving down her shoulders, and mischievous eyes. The cruelty is gone. This tells me that whatever happened to her between one vessel and the next caused her to become more human. It's one of many intriguing mysteries about my friend.

I'm not sure how long either of us was here before we discovered each other--it is literally impossible to tell time when the closest you ever come to awakening is a doze. All I know is that one day I felt a pressure on my hand. I looked down at it. It was the same as always, so I shrugged and turned back to Lilith. She was gone, replaced by a woman so vibrant I knew at once she was no dream.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Meg."

"I'm Ruby."

Her jaw dropped. "You're Ruby?! Wow. I've heard so much about you."

But I had never heard of her.

I've been trying to figure out who she is ever since--well, every time both of us are a) lucidly dreaming, and b) dream-sharing (by holding hands).

"So," I ask now, "What did you sell your soul for?"

"I didn't," she replies. "I won a trip downstairs the old-fashioned way. Murder."

I frown. "Lots of people commit murder."

She smiles. "I killed six people. In cold blood. And I don't regret it."

The tiny part of me that remains human is horrified. The rest of me is impressed. "What did they do?"

For a few moments she is raven-haired, fierce, and speaking with an Irish accent. "They were English."

"Oh."

"What about you?"

The image of a dark-haired, dusky-skinned male perched proudly on a grey horse swims across my mind. "I sold my soul for love.""

She smirks. "How romantic."

I smirk back. "Anyway, I'm still trying to figure out if I should know you. Since you know who I am."

Her smirk expands into a smile. "We have some frenemies in common."

"Like?"

"Sam Winchester."

I freeze as dozens of memories race across my consciousness. Desperate Sam. Drunk Sam. Suicidal Sam. High Sam. Lustful Sam. Scornful Sam. Angry Sam. Never was there so bracingly pleasurably an assignment as the manipulation and seduction of Sam Winchester. I close my eyes and allow my lips to quirk upward.

I hear a knowing chuckle. "I take it he was good, then?'

"Oh, yeah." He'd been as wild and dominating and creative as any of my demon lovers.

"I never got that far." I open my eyes to find her gazing off into the distance, lost in her own memories of the enigmatic hunter. "I did get to possess him once, though."

I'm just starting to imagine what it would be like to have the use of that impressive mind (not to mention that gorgeous body) when I realize we're no longer in Meg's warehouse.

It looks like a small, occult library. Tall bookshelves, long tables, low lamps, antique weapons, mysterious objects. Since I've never been here, this must still be Meg's dream. I turn to ask her and find myself facing the man we've been discussing. 

Sam looks about a decade older than when I last saw him. His youthful softness has been replaced with lines at his lips and eyes. His lower face is dusted in what looks like a deliberate stubble. His magnificent hair is long and thick and wavy, but the color is a bit lighter and tinged with red. He must be dyeing it to hide grey streaks. The man always was vain about his hair. He's thinner than he was, but he holds himself with a quiet confidence that makes him seem larger. The boy I knew has become a truly formidable man.

I shiver, glad that we appear to be invisible (somehow I know what I am seeing is real), and squeeze Meg's hand.

Sam looks up in response to sound I can't hear. A moment later, his brother enters the room with an angel. Castiel.

"My unicorn!" Meg breathes. 

It hits me that her phrase is the first sound I've heard since arriving here. We must be able to see events but not hear them. Sure enough Castiel and Dean are bickering in complete silence. An equally silent Sam is attempting to mediate. Too bad I can't read lips.

Meg is laughing. "Look at them arguing like a married couple. You know, I always thought there was something going on between Dean and Clarence."

I shrug off her choice of nicknames for the angel and nod. I had suspected the same, based on Sam's heated (jealous?) accounts of their relationship. I move forward, hoping for more evidence of a salacious human/angel affair. There isn't any. No lingering glances. No unnecessary touches. They're not even standing all that close together.

I glance at Meg. She's pursing her lips in disappointment. She meets my eye and shrugs. "I guess I was hoping that since I couldn't have him, at least he would get a Winchester."

I chuckle in response as I study the angel. He is greatly diminished in power, no longer the terrifying creature he had been about a decade ago. Still, though, he's thrumming with grace and it's obvious that he could kill a demon with a touch. He's not particularly intimidating at the moment, however. In fact, he looks almost small and delicate next to gigantic Sam. If he's aware of this fact, it clearly doesn't bother him--Castiel is standing as close to Sam as he can manage without touching him. Hmm. He's also taking advantage of Sam's eyes being on Dean to study (admire?) the hunter's broad shoulders and the way a lock of dark hair falls across his beautiful face.

Meg's eyebrows are raised as high as mine.

Sam is showing Dean and Cas his research. Cas leans over the table to look more closely at one of the books and Sam tilts his head as his eyes drop to the curve of Castiel's rear end.

"Well," I say, "That answers that question." I turn to Meg. "I had no idea he was into guys."

"I did," she replies with a cheeky smile. "I possessed him, remember? I could have outed him to Dean soooo many times, but I never did. I liked having a secret known just to the two of us."

Her voice warbles and fades. The library bubbles and blurs. My last coherent thought is a vague acknowledgment that I'm falling into deeper sleep.

*

I'm relaxing on the couch in my velvet-draped apartment, enjoying the warmth of the fire as I sip wine and nibble olives. My gown drapes artfully around my curves, straining my bodice every time I sigh in anticipation of my lover's return. 

Instead of my beautiful, dark-eyed boyfriend, Meg saunters through the door.

"Nice place."

My dream-body realigns from the appearance of the human woman I had been when I lived in this apartment to the petite, jeans-clad vessel I had been wearing when Dean Winchester stabbed me. "It better be. It only cost me my soul."

Meg picks up a small, silver sculpture of a falcon in flight. "I thought you said you sold your soul for love."

"Yes," I reply. "Love. Not marriage. I probably should have specified, but, hey," I pause to shrug, "I never envied his wife."

She smirks. "So, you were a kept woman."

I stretch out my hands so that I can gesture at the whole room. "Ten years living in luxury and independence? It was so worth it."

She laughs. "Anyway, as gorgeous as this place is, I would rather look at some gorgeous men. Let's see if we can get back to the bunker!"

"The bunker?"

"It looked like one. Plus, they mentioned moving into a bunker last time I saw them. Before Crowley killed me." Her eyes sparkle with mischief. 

"Okay. I think we just need to think about Sam. At the same time." I bite my lip, looking at her for confirmation.

She nods, so I close my eyes and focus on Sam. Broad shoulders rippling with muscles. Legs that stretch for miles. Soft, emotion-fill eyes that change color depending on his surroundings. Pink lips that quirk with as much expression as his eyes . . . .

I open my own eyes before my thoughts can get too pornographic.

It worked.

Sam is showing Castiel something on his laptop, which apparently necessitates Cas pulling his chair so close to Sam's that he's practically sitting on his lap. Dean is nowhere in sight.

"Ohhh, yes," Meg murmurs beside me.

I raise an eyebrow. "Getting excited over there?"

"He is just so hot!"

No arguments there. Sam is smiling at Cas while pointing at the screen with one long, slender finger. 

"Those eyes!" Meg sighs.

"Right?" Sam's beautiful hazel eyes are brimming with intelligence and affection and (was I imagining things?) lust.

"They're so blue!"

Oh. Come to think of it, Castiel is very attractive. I was just too hung up on my former lover to notice.

There's no denying Sam has noticed, however. In fact, he and Cas seem to have completely forgotten whatever it was they were looking up on the computer. They're staring into each other's eyes, tilting closer and closer . . . .

Cas leans the rest of the way and brushes his lips against Sam's.

Sam stands up, shocked. Cas stares at him, hurt and confusion brimming in those huge azure eyes. They start talking and, oh, do I ever wish I could read lips.

Meg is biting her lip. "I was sure he felt the same way."

"Just wait." If there's one thing I've learned about Sam Winchester, it's that he's a volcano. No matter how calm, collected, and logical he seems on the surface, he is always bubbling with passion just beneath. Give him the right stimulation and he'll erupt. He is thrumming with desire. All he needs is the certainty that the angel really meant it and . . .

Sam grabs Cas by the shoulders and slams their mouths together. In the blink of an eye, he has lifted Cas onto the table and slipped between his legs. Still kissing him, he begins to push off his (boy)friend's tan trench coat. After a moment (of adjustment, probably), the angel matches Sam's enthusiasm and starts to work on the buttons closing his flannel shirt.

"I wasn't expecting a show," Meg gasps. "You sure know how to treat a friend."

"A show that's about to get better." I point at the hallway, where movement indicates that the new couple won't be alone for long.

Two seconds later, Dean walks in and drops the three bottles of beer he was carrying.

Sam jumps away from Cas.

Cas hops off the table, straightening his clothes.

Dean ignores the mess he made and marches up to Cas, yelling and gesticulating. He's behaving like the over-protective father of a virginal teenage girl. I half expect him to pull out an angel blade and start ostentatiously cleaning it.

Castiel is screaming right back. His already-blue eyes are starting to glow an impossibly brighter hue. The shadow of great wings is beginning to take form on the wall behind him.

Meg and I are laughing so hard we have to hold each other up.

Sam rolls his eyes, steps between his brother and his angel, grabs Castiel's hand and starts coolly informing Dean that he and Cas are going to be together whether Dean likes it or not. No sound, no ability to read lips necessary to see that.

Dean swallows. Visibly calms himself down. After all, as we saw last time we visited, Sam is always settling disputes between the two hotheaded best friends. They're both accustomed to being managed by Sam.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Dean holds out his hand. Cas turns the handshake into an awkward hug.

Now Meg is rolling her eyes. "Boys."

"We should come here every time we're awake enough." I comment. "Maybe next time, Dean won't interrupt."

"Or, maybe, we'll see Dean get a boyfriend." She winks.

"Doubtful. He's the straightest guy I've ever seen."

"You thought Sam was straight." She points at the man in question, who is currently proving his bisexuality by whispering suggestively in Castiel's ear.

"Good point."

I'm smiling as the bunker swirls out of focus and I slide into deeper sleep.


End file.
